


Too Many Spider Ciders

by Inanimate



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: BLUE DICK, Grillby's, M/M, Sans X Grillby, Shameless Smut, Smut, Undertail, im sorry., magical dick, sans is drunk, sans/grillby - Freeform, sinning with sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inanimate/pseuds/Inanimate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans has too many drinks, and takes it upon himself to make Grillby feel good. Whether Grillby wants that or not.</p><p>Yes, Spider Cider isn't a drug, but just pretend it is. For me?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Spider Ciders

Grillby reached under the counter, retrieving a glass for the skeleton in front of him. “Put it on my tab,” Sans murmured with a troubled expression. The bartender looked up and made a mental note. “What's wrong?” Grillby whispered in a smooth, low voice. “Laid off of one of my jobs.” Sans sighed and put a bony hand on his cranium.   
Grillby sighed. “I'm closing up soon. Do you need me to walk you home? You've had ten spider ciders.” The bar was all empty, so Sans’s reply echoed through the space. “Sure,” he muttered.  
Grillby gently tugged at the blue jacket over the skeleton, helping him up and supporting him out of the bar. They stepped into the freezing weather, wind blustering over the duo, carrying vast amounts of snow across them. Grillby’s head actually flickered a bit, in danger of even flashing out. Sans looked up and took off his jacket, smiling and placing the hood over Grill’s head. “Oh,” Grillby said, taking the jacket and zipping it around his tight suit. “Thank you.”  
Sans nodded, blinking drearily. He was almost knockout drunk, and nothing really made sense, so he simply agreed with whatever Grillby had said and kept stomping on. The snow crunched under his wavering steps, unsteady zig-zag lines being traced behind him with indented footprints.  
The taller of the two placed his hand over Sans’ shoulder, straightening him as they closed in on his house. Grillby knocked on the door sharply, expecting to meet Papyrus, once again sad that his brother was losing his control, but no response came. In a few moments, he knocked again, but there was yet to be a reply.  
Grillby shook his hooded head and reached under the mat, grasping a key and shoving it into the lock. He twisted, the door opening with a click. Stepping inside, he clarified that Papyrus was indeed not there, and took off the jacket. Sans stumbled in behind, dragging snow on his wet slippers across the room. Grills had decided to stay until the other skeleton came, just to make sure Sans got into no trouble.  
He sat on the end of the couch, tapping his orange fingers to his knee wrapped tightly in his uniform. Sans fell to the cushion beside him, a line of dried spit dripping from his mouth. Grillby pulled out a small cloth tucked neatly into his sleeve and wiped it away.   
Sans groaned and leaned into the thin figure beside him, his eyes closed and arms tightly pulling him into a hug. Grillby gently tried to pry his bones away, knowing all too well that it was the drugs beating on him, but the skeleton only held him tighter.  
Grillby sighed and just went with it, knowing Papy would be home soon to take care of him. “I love you,” Sans cooed, baring his teeth in a massive grin. Grillby made an impatient uh-huh noise and kept tapping at his knee. The skeleton giggled cheerily, blinking a few times and poking at the inner curve of the taller man’s thigh.   
Grillby reached out and grasped Sans’ phalanges, repositioning them away from him, but the short brother took his other hand and slid it under the first, poking at the thigh again. His touch was unbearably cold against Grill’s warm body. His heart skipped a beat as Sans lightly traced his pointed fingertips into his more personal area.  
“Sans,” Grillby said, looking down on him. The skeleton chuckled in response.

“Yeah?”

“You're under the influence. Please stop.”

“No. You don't tell me what to do, hottie.”

The man was nowhere near ready to chuckle at the awful pun before he felt something on his wrists. He lifted his hands, finding them bound by a blue, magic cloth. “Sans,” he repeated, more warning in his voice, but this time the skeleton took no notice. He surely knew exactly what he was doing, and didn't plan on stopping.  
Grillby was lifted by a ghostly force, hovering over to the wall and being delicately set with his face against it. His glasses clinked quietly upon the dark wood. He tried to turn his head or move his body, but he was suspended midair and utterly trapped.   
Sans approached from behind, a cyan glow dancing in his eye. He reached around to the front of Grillby’s pants, grasping the zipper and dropping them to the ground. The trapped figure trembled as the chilling fingers rubbed across his thighs, slipping over the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down.   
Sans felt around for a moment, nimble phalanges skimming experimentally across Grillby before grabbing the length between his legs. He stroked up and down, slowly, but was picking up speed. The bartender moaned pleadingly and squirmed under his touch. Pleasure shocked at his limbs, numbing, amazing, and Sans kept going.   
When Grillby was nearly on the edge, Sans let go, removing his own clothes. The flaming man groaned softly, trying to pull his hands around to finish what the skeleton had started. It was no use. Sans panted as he felt his own magic dick, bending Grillby over and giving him a better angle. Grill’s head was against the wall now, on his knees, shaking, his hands firmly against his back.   
Sans draped his figure over Grillby. The taller man whined as he felt the wet head of the small brother’s dick pushed against his butt. The skeleton stuck his tongue out on Grillby’s back, tasting him all over before positioning himself at his entrance.   
Both of them whined deeply as Sans went in. He moved at a moderate pace, breathing heavily as sweat beaded on his skull. In the moment of intense pleasure, Grillby was able to free his hands and grab his own length. He quickly worked himself, freeing the energy and emptying his load on the floor.   
But Sans wasn't done. He continued pounding, rocking back and forth, becoming progressively louder until his jarring strokes slowed at his climax. Grills felt himself being filled, but it seemed to disappear in a moment when the skeleton pulled out with a satisfied sigh.  
Grillby cursed as the magic binding him was dismissed. He turned to the drunk, smiling away as if he'd won some sort of game. The tall one quickly snatched his pants from the floor and put them on, disregarding the boxers, deciding Sans should explain that to his brother. He threw gym shorts and a tee at the skeleton, who put them on and walked toward his room.  
There was no point in reasoning with him. Or even complaining, for that matter. So the fiery man just watched as Sans jumped into his room, slamming the door.

 

 

“I'll have… another cider, G’lby,” Sans hiccuped.

 

“No.”

**Author's Note:**

> Once again. Ending things isn't my strong suit.   
> Hope you had fun, you dirty fire fucker.


End file.
